‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” She rolled the tissue into a ball in her lap and stared at it. Several of the assailants carried links, so that the room was a blaze of light. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. Wouldn't take my advice.
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